


Reaching

by eerian_sadow



Series: Melodies of Life [15]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, Therapy, hurt comfort bingo, hurt comfort bingo 2013, reaching out for help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 06:32:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunstreaker reaches out for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reaching

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 2013 round of hurt comfort bingo, filling my "therapy" square.
> 
> this is set on Earth, just a little while after Sideswipe and Prowl get together in "Growing Pains".
> 
> apparently time in this 'verse is broken down into a series of dynasties identified by the ruling Prime. so, the current dynasty would be identified as "The Vorns of Optimus" and the current year would be (roughly) the 48,780th vorn of Optimus. (based on the 4 million year stasis presented in cartoon G1 canon and the 82 year vorn established in Marvel G1 comics)

“Hoist?”

“Yes, Sunstreaker?” The older mech didn’t look up from the wiring he was mending in Wheeljack’s hand.

“I need…” The yellow twin fidgeted for a moment, not sure how to even ask, now that he’d made up his mind. “I need to make an appointment with you.”

“Ratchet is free, as of five minutes ago,” Hoist replied, still carefully soldering.

“Not that kind of appointment.” Sunstreaker drew in a calming ventilation of air, the way his sensei had taught him to do when something trivial threatened to send him into a fit of anger. “I need a therapy appointment.”

“Oh!” The medic finished his weld and looked up. “I apologize, Sunstreaker. I didn’t realize anyone even knew my secondary specialty anymore.”

“Smokescreen said you used to do therapy and counseling. I was just hoping…”

Wheeljack took the soldering iron and solder from Hoist and stood up. “You two talk. I’ll have Ratchet finish this.”

Sunstreaker knew he could trust the engineer not to say anything, but he still felt more relaxed when the white mech was gone.

“Come, sit down.” The green and gold mech gestured to the chair Wheeljack had just vacated. “Smokescreen sent you to me, then?”

“No. I mean, not really.” Sunstreaker shrugged as he sat. “He just said that he’d been to see you after his creators were killed in the accident. Since you helped him, I was hoping you could help me, too.”

“I am willing to do what I can, Sunstreaker. But first, I need to know why you’ve come to me for help.” Hoist leaned back in his chair, prepared to listen for as long as the yellow mech needed to talk.

“I’m tired of being angry all the time,” the younger mech admitted. “I used to be happy, a long time ago and I want that again.”

“I can’t promise you happiness,” The older mech said. “Therapy doesn’t work that way. All I can promise is that I will work with you for as long as you need and want in order for you to find peace with yourself. For anything else, you would need to schedule an appointment with a code specialist and have your personality components altered.”

“NO!” Sunstreaker’s disagreement with the idea came out sharper than he intended. “Sorry. No reprogramming. That’s worse than what happened to me to make me this way.”

“It is not a method I advocate,” Hoist agreed. “For some mechs, it is the only hope they can see, though.”

“I have hope. I know I can be better than this.”

“Then I can help you. When would you like to begin?”

“Is tomorrow too long to wait?” The yellow twin looked down at the floor. “It took a lot to even come here today.”

“Tomorrow is fine.” The older mech gave the impression of smiling, though Sunstreaker couldn’t make out any details through his mask and visor. “I have an opening around Noon.”

“Noon is good.” The younger mech looked up with a relieved smile. “I’m off shift by then.”

“Excellent. I will see you tomorrow at noon then.” 

“See you tomorrow.” Sunstreaker stood up and turned to leave. “Thanks, Hoist.”

“You are most welcome.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Hey.” Smokescreen dropped onto the sofa next to Sunstreaker and plucked the remote out of his hand.

Sunstreaker gave him a dirty look as the tactician flipped through the various (boring) daytime programs on the television. “Hi.”

“Don’t be grumpy. You know that “As the Kitchen Sinks” is horrible, no matter what Bluestreak says.”

“Yeah, but I could have channel surfed.” The yellow mech turned his head to give the other a pointed stare. Then he looked away again. “I went to see Hoist today.”

Smokescreen turned off the TV and focused all his attention on Sunstreaker. “You’re not hurt are you? Or sick? Primus, the humans haven’t written a virus we can catch, have they?”

“Jeeze, you sound like Red.” Sunny gave his friend a half-smile. “Nothing like that, I promise. I just… need help. I have all this anger, still, and it’s great for destroying Decepticons but not for anything else. I made a lot of progress while I was studying with Master Yoketron, but once the war started it was really easy to fall back into my anger. Now I want more than that. I want to paint again, and I want to have friends besides you and Prowl. And I want to have a relationship with someone I might want to bond with someday.”

“Oh.” Smokescreen swallowed audibly. “So who’s the lucky bot?”

A dozen coy responses came to his mind, but Sunstreaker discarded them all. Smokescreen deserved more than that. “You are. I think maybe you always have been.”

The blue and yellow mech’s optics went wide. “Oh! Oh wow!”

“Didn’t think I’d ever see a day when you were speechless.” The yellow mech leaned over and kissed him.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“...And then I told him ‘you make me want to be a better mech’. Was that stupid? Am I doing this for the wrong reason?”

Hoist looked at Sunstreaker and shook his head. “Not at all. Mechs have many reasons for wanting to better themselves, and they are equally valid and correct reasons. That you want to be better because of Smokescreen’s influence speaks highly for you and for how much you care for him.”

“But when I said it that way, it felt selfish.” Sunstreaker rubbed a hand across his optics. “Like I was just doing this so that he would _be_ with me, instead of whatever it is we have now.”

“Is that how you intended it?”

“No! I want to be better, so that I don’t hurt him. So that I don’t screw everything up and break his spark or just lose it completely and hit him.”

“Then I believe your motives are pure.” Hoist pulled out a datapad and entered a few notes. “We still have ten minutes left and your file doesn’t detail much of your life before you were recommended into the army by Prowl. Would you care to fill in the gap? The more I know about your past, the better equipped I am to help you.”

“Sure, okay. How far back do you want me to start?”

“As far back as you would like. We can always continue during the next session.” Hoist gave him that impression of smiling comfortingly again.

“Okay.” Sunstreaker nodded. “Sideswipe and I were sparked in Iacon during the second vorn of Nova. We were the first twins ever delivered in that little hospital and our creator said the Prime Himself blessed us but neither of us remember it. We to our first year of education when we were four vorns old…”

**Author's Note:**

> Prowl was born in the sixth vorn of Illuminous, the Prime prior to Nova who ruled for 600 vorns, just to put that age gap in perspective.


End file.
